Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,42

lay the journal on the table, and puncture it as if it had a heart. The knife slices through effortlessly, sliding to the other end of the journal, and the tip of the blade lodges in the table. “Talent? Are you fucking kidding?”

Now I’m getting angry.

“You went through my journals!” I slam my fist on the counter, and Slingshot flinches. “You had no right! None! You just don’t trust me, so you took it upon yourself to invade my privacy. These were my fucking secrets—mine!” I rip the knife away from the journal and charge Reaper, slamming him against the counter. The knife hovers just above his neck, and he doesn’t move; he doesn’t blink.

“You’re right,” he says.

“You doubted me.”

“I know.”

Tool stands next to Reaper, but the Prez holds up his hand to stop Tool from encroaching on us.

“You don’t share. The girl, what happened in her apartment, I needed to make sure.”

“You should have trusted me. Instead you went through my journals,” my voice cracks, knowing what they saw. A tear slips down my cheek, and my chest feels … open. It’s new to me. “You have no idea how out of place you are. I should kill you!”

“You would do that to Sarah?” he asks, leaning his neck into the blade.

Would I do it?

I’d think about it for a minute.

I know at the end of the day; I wouldn’t do it.

“Melissa, Joanna, Dawn, not now,” Skirt says to the girls who enter the kitchen from the hallway.

“What’s going on? What are these?” Melissa asks, picking up a journal without thinking and opens it. “Oh, wow, she’s really pretty. Who drew these? They are so talented.”

I snatch the journal away from her, but as soon as I do, Dawn picks one up, then Joanna. I can’t stop them all.

“You drew because you couldn’t write,” Reaper states to me.

“Leave me alone.”

“You drew because you didn’t know how to read,” Slingshot says next.

“Shut up! You don’t know anything! You don’t fucking know!” I scream, slamming my fist on the table again. The journals bounce in the air from the force, but the men are blurry.

Reaper takes the journal that I took from Melissa and opens it to the first picture of Daphne. She’s asleep, tangled in blankets, with a slight smile on her face. Her hair is cascading across the other pillow, where I deserve to be.

“You follow her. You watch her because you don’t know how else to be.”

“You don’t fucking know anything!” I slam my fist against Reaper’s face, unable to hold back my rage. “No one knows anything!”

“Tongue, you crazy fucking bastard. Get off him,” Tool bellows, wrapping his arms around my torso, but he’s nowhere near strong enough to take me down. I rip the knife from the journal on the table and rear it back, slamming Tool in the bicep with it.

“Fuck!” he cries, stumbling back and cradling his injured arm.

Bullseye tackles me next, then Slingshot holds me down, along with Knives. Tool stands over me, a stream of blood staining his flesh. “That’s what you get for going through my shit,” I snarl at him as three men hold me down.

“We aren’t your enemy,” Reaper tells me, kneeling by my head. I turn it back and forth, feeling crowded. Slingshot’s face comes closer to mine, and it morphs into my uncle’s. He’s laughing at me. I can feel the cigarette ashes falling and searing my skin.

“You’re a fucking idiot, aren’t you? Always so dumb. You make it easy; you know that?”

“Get off me! Get off!” I shout, kicking and bucking.

“Tongue, you’re okay.”

“You need to step away from him, Reaper, Slingshot, Knives, Bullseye. Step away,” Doc warns, slowly inching away from me.

“I can’t wait to get my hands on that filthy little ass of yours, Wayne. If you’d listen. That is all it takes. You can’t even call me by Justine, no matter how many times I’ve told you. Roll over.”

“Get off.” I tug against his hands, nervous and afraid. “Please, stop,” I croak, breaking like I did when I was twelve.

“God, are you people deaf? Get off him!”

“Bend over and spread your cheeks.”

No.

With one last effort, I roar, slinging my uncle off me. Everything is blurry. I see faces. They form into my uncle, laughing at me, curlers in his hair, and a silk robe hanging off his shoulders.

“Get on your knees. Suck my cock, Wayne.”

“No!” I take my knife and bury it in his stomach, killing him once and for all. “You fucking bastard.”